Tracks

I look back and see my footprints leading away from home. It’s a bit hard to tell that they’re there in the darkness of the night, even with the snow reflecting the light from the porch. Running away. Why does it sound so dramatic? All it is is me leaving home after my mom goes to bed. Oh, and nobody knowing. I guess she’ll find out tomorrow when she wakes up. And my “friends” won’t really mind. They never actually cared about me. That was just fake love. Not real